


Prince of Thieves

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robin Hood Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, King Peter Hale, Long-Haired Derek Hale, Lord Derek Hale, M/M, Maid Marian Derek, Outlaw Stiles Stilinski, Robin Hood Stiles, Sheriff of Nottingham Kate, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: “I’m fine here,” Derek stated, briefly eyeing Scott before grabbing Stiles’ arm. “You need to get out of here. I can’t protect you from Harris or Argent if you don’t flee.”“I’m not leaving,” Stiles plainly stated to Derek’s face.Derek glared at Stiles, releasing his arm as he drew in a deep breath. “Help! They’re stealing my horses!”Stiles’ jaw dropped in momentary shock. “You—”Derek’s eyebrows raised in challenge, a smug satisfaction preening from him, knowing that Stiles had to run now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves AU that NO ONE asked me for but you are all getting regardless. Because of my long-haired Derek needs.

“Her last thoughts were of you,” Stiles offered, hoping it would be of some comfort to know that Laura wasn’t alone.

Derek stared down at his father’s ring—the one he gave to Laura when she decided to head off to the war, jesting that she had to help the men keep their heads. “And how do I know you didn’t leave her there?” He looked up at Stiles, partially glaring at him. “How do I know you still aren’t the selfish, arrogant child I knew you to be when we were younger?”

Stiles knew Derek was grieving, but there was still a truth in his words. He looked down at his feet, eyebrows furrowed as he thought about the years he spent in war—the things he saw. “I’d say war changes people—that I’m no longer the boy that teased you mercilessly. I didn’t expect you to welcome me with open arms, but a little understanding that I too feel the pain of her loss would be welcomed.”

Derek glared at Stiles, getting up and marching away from him. “I’ll be sure to tell Cora that when she returns from London.”

Stiles groaned. “Derek, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He moved to follow Derek. “I promised Laura I would look after you.”

“You can’t replace Laura—no one can,” Derek answered, moving away from Stiles.

“Derek,” Stiles called, running after him, gently grasping hold of his hand. “Please, I didn’t come here to hurt you, or to try and replace the irreplaceable.” He sighed, easing his hold on Derek when he realized he wasn’t going to run away. “Laura died in my arms as I promised I’d look after you.”

“I don’t need you to look after me, Stiles,” Derek stated in exasperation.

“Argent’s men at your gates say otherwise,” Stiles replied, gesturing to the countless homeless Derek was sheltering.

“She won’t take my land—as the King’s nephew, she can’t harm me anymore than she can annoy me,” Derek sighed. “Now, get out of here before I make you leave.”

“Make me leave,” Stiles nearly laughed. “Derek, you barely won the last fight.”

Derek swiftly moved, sweeping Stiles’ legs out from under him with little effort.

A faint yelp came from Stiles as he tumbled to the ground at Derek’s feet. He looked up at Derek, disliking the smug look he found gazing back at him.

“How exactly are you going to protect me when you can’t even stand up right?” Derek countered.

“I wasn’t prepared for that,” Stiles argued, climbing to his feet. “And I let you win back there,” he gestured towards the great hall.

“Let me?” Derek laughed. “You let me beat you?”

“You kicked me in the balls,” Stiles dryly countered.

“You tried to light me on fire,” Derek countered with equal passion.

“I’m not leaving,” Stiles firmly answered.

“We are leaving,” Scott commented as he sprinted by Derek and Stiles. “More than a dozen of Argent’s men are headed this way, and there is no way we can take them.” He swiftly made his way onto one of the horses, ready to flee.

“You’re some help,” Stiles stated, turning to look at the horizon, seeing several horses and riders headed their way.

Derek turned to look at Stiles. “Why would you care if Argent’s men—”

“I may have killed a few of them earlier,” Stiles partially sighed.

“Why am I not surprised,” Derek deadpanned, turning to see that Harris was leading them. “You need to leave.”

“Derek—”

“I’m fine here,” Derek stated, briefly eyeing Scott before grabbing Stiles’ arm. “You need to get out of here. I can’t protect you from Harris or Argent if you don’t flee.”

“I’m not leaving,” Stiles plainly stated to Derek’s face.

Derek glared at Stiles, releasing his arm as he drew in a deep breath. “Help! They’re stealing my horses!”

Stiles’ jaw dropped in momentary shock. “You—”

Derek’s eyebrows raised in challenge, a smug satisfaction preening from him, knowing that Stiles had to run now.

“As always, so kind, Derek,” Stiles answered with a slight bow, moving to mount the horse Scott was holding the reins of. He gently tapped Derek’s ass with the blunted side of his scabbard, feeling victorious when Derek jolted forward with a faint yelp, a hand instinctively moving to touch where Stiles had hit him.

Derek watched as Stiles and his companion fled, pushing the horses to ride faster. He turned to look at the riders as they disruptively entered into his grounds unwelcomed. He crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Harris to gallop over to him.

“Harboring fugitives, Lord Hale?” Harris questioned.

“They’re stealing my horses, idiot,” Derek plainly answered with an insincere smile.

“Didn’t steal any other things, did they? Rob you of _virtuous_ belongings?” Harris countered with a sneer. “Sheriff Argent would be disappointed to hear that.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at Harris. “I’m sure the King will be happy that the _acting_ Sheriff cares so much about my safety.” He didn’t avert his gaze until the riders left in pursuit of Stiles and Scott.

~*~

The church was dimly lit, despite how many candles burned throughout the day and night. It was supposed to be a safe haven for the poor, to give them safety and relief when they weren’t even protected in their own homes.

Derek felt a type of calm in his faith, knowing that his thoughts were free from being plagued with worry of politics and social standing. Mostly, he was relieved that the Argents had to leave him be when he was in the midst of prayer. He concentrated on clearing his mind, forgetting about how war torn the kingdom was—and just how weary Peter sounded in his last letter. He wondered if it was all still worth fighting for—if what Laura died for was still worth the fight.

“Alms for a blind man, my lord,” a familiar voice faintly begged, the owner turning to get a glimpse of Derek. “For one who cannot see your beauty is truly poor.”

Derek turned his head to look up at the man, a faint smile pulling at his lips when he discovered it was none other than Stiles. His smile quickly fell when he remembered that Kate was nearby. “Stiles, you shouldn’t be here, Argent has wanted posters all over the city for you.”

“Really?” Stiles sounded amused. “How much?”

“Stiles, this is serious,” Derek sighed. “She is offering three hundred pounds for your head.”

“Hmph,” Stiles huffed, looking around as he surveyed those mindlessly walking about them. “I’ll have to vex her some more—maybe I can get it up to a thousand.”

“Stiles, she’ll take it from the people then,” Derek chastised.

Stiles fondly smiled at that. “You sound so kingly.”

“You sound so criminal.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Stiles answered in kind.

“Please,” Derek softly began. “Please, leave before she finds you. I would … I would feel very poorly should you be captured and hanged because of me.”

“Would you mourn me?” Stiles playfully questioned.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed as he looked up at him. “Please, I’ve mourned enough for loved ones.”

Stiles’ expression softened, subconsciously reaching a hand out to brush Derek's braid back behind his shoulder. It was an intimate gesture, one that he had often shared with Derek in the past. “Alas, if my lord commands it,” he nodded his head to Derek, bowing his head in respect as he turned to leave Derek behind.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, gaining his attention once more. “Do me a favor.”

Stiles arched his eyebrows in question. “Anything.”

“Take a bath,” Derek explained.

“Take a … ” Stiles looked down at his clothes, sniffing himself briefly. “Oh.” He faintly nodded to Derek, turning to make his timely escape.

Derek fondly smiled as he watched him go.

“Lord Hale,” a female voice caused Derek to startle some, forcing him to look up at the owner.

“Sheriff Argent,” Derek faintly stated in recognition, moving to stand.

“Please, how many times have I asked you to call me Kate,” she smiled.

“All too many,” Erica mumbled under her breath as she moved to usher Derek into leaving. “We have a great number of errands to run, sire.”

Derek nodded to Erica, thankful for her interruption.

“I’ll walk you out,” Kate stated with an overly friendly smile.

“A welcomed gesture,” Derek artfully lied, knowing it was easier to play along and avoid her than to flat out refuse her.

“My men tell me that you were deprived of some horses,” Kate started as she walked beside Derek.

“Yes,” Derek answered, keeping his gaze elsewhere. “It was a ghastly experience.” He knew he had to still pretend to be the helpless child he had been in his younger years.

When Peter left during the beginnings of the war, he urged Derek to keep his health in check. Derek had always been the sick one out of Talia’s children. He nearly died more than once from fever. When the war began, Laura was the one fit enough to ride out, Derek determined to get better and join her. With her disappearance and suspected death, Derek was forbidden from joining the cause. If Peter died, Derek was the next in line—without Derek, the kingdom would crumble into chaos and ruin.

It also meant that Derek was the linchpin in the line of succession until Peter had his own children, so the vultures began to circle him in hopes of a marriage. Kate was the loudest among them vying for his attention and support. And with Kate’s usurpation of the Sheriff’s office, Derek had no option but to tolerate her until Peter and his army returned.

“If you would move into the heart of the city, it would make it easier for my men to protect you from such attacks,” Kate offered, another poorly veiled attempt to get Derek closer to her.

“It’s a generous offer, as always,” Derek answered. “However, I prefer to stay in the country, on my family’s land. There are many people who need my attention there.”

“Then perhaps some precaution,” Kate offered. “A weapon to protect you.”

Derek startled when a dagger was practically thrusted into his view. “Thank you, that’s very gracious. But I have plenty of protection at home.”

“All the same,” Kate started, offering the dagger to Derek. “I would feel better if you had it.”

Derek reluctantly accepted the dagger, knowing he would have to accept it in order for Kate to leave him be. “The King will be very moved to hear of your concern for my wellbeing.”

A twitch pulled at Kate’s lips, an insincere smile replacing her hopeful look. “Yes, well, he has many enemies, abroad and at home. We’ll have to choose our company carefully.”

Derek nodded, respectfully bowing to Kate before moving to exit the church.

“Can we sell it?” Erica asked, side-eyeing the dagger as she walked beside Derek.

“If only,” Derek sighed. “I’m positive she’ll want to know that I still have it.”

“Could just say you lost it,” Erica prompted.

“I fear what she’d offer then,” Derek replied.

“Perhaps you could use it to ransom Sheriff Stilinski,” Erica partially muttered.

Derek turned his head to look at the wanted poster for Stiles. He hoped that Stiles had left when prompted, not knowing how many men Kate had roaming the premises. Stiles’ wanted poster had been plastered over Sheriff Stilinski’s, a testament to how Kate was moving systematically to rid herself of her enemies.

“If only we could,” Derek longingly stated. He wished he could give Stiles the gift of a heartfelt reunion with his father.

~*~

Derek listened to the gossip of the other nobles, hearing tales of Stiles’ mythos growing. He smiled to himself when he heard one of the lords grumbling about losing another sack of gold to the ghosts of Sherwood Forest.

Stiles had begun to make a name for himself—the Prince of Thieves. Outlaw and charlatan were whispered among the rich. The poor revered him, finding Stiles charming and helpful in solving to their many endeavors. He had become a man of the people, giving back what Kate had taken from so many.

Derek admired him for it.

“Have you heard about the friar—the one who cares for the honey bees?” One of the noble ladies gossiped.

“The poor little angel,” the other answered. “Being swept up by such ruffians.”

Derek turned his head to see the side of the pews, catching sight of John Stilinski sitting alongside the Argents. He had hoped the Argents had yet to break John’s resolve.

“What?” Kate’s voice loudly shouted as she whirled on the guard who reported to her.

Those in the church turned to look at Kate.

John released a pleased snort of laughter, shaking his head.

“Do you have something to say, _sir_?” Kate angrily demanded of John.

John shook his head, pretending to be innocent of critiquing her. “Appears my son is giving you worse trouble than you thought possible, is all,” he stated.

“Keep at it, _sir_ , and you may find yourself joining your wife sooner than you think,” Kate harshly uttered.

Derek turned his head away from Kate, wishing to feign ignorance. He looked at Erica, leaning in to whisper, “We should bring Stiles news of his father. He can’t keep avoiding Kate’s anger forever.”

Erica looked surprised by Derek’s words. “Do you wish to have all you own taken from you?”

“Kate cannot harm me,” Derek began.

“While Peter is here—but he’s not here,” Erica continued, grabbing Derek’s arm to pull him in closer. She lowered her voice, “If Kate finds out you are helping Stiles, you will lose your lands and title—there are too many that rely on you, Derek.”

“If I do nothing and allow Kate to succeed, then I fear Peter will return to his kingdom torn apart by flames,” Derek calmly answered Erica’s concerns.

~*~

“You can’t tell me you plan on waltzing into the heart of the city, and breaking your father out of jail will no repercussion,” Scott answered Stiles’ silent brooding over the countless maps and letters they acquired from their recent robbery.

Stiles said nothing.

“Stiles,” Scott pressed. He huffed in annoyance as he plopped down next to the table.

“My father is the rightful Sheriff,” Stiles finally stated, looking up at Scott. “The people would rejoice if he was freed.”

“You’re forgetting one crucial thing,” Scott stated.

“Kate Argent,” Stiles replied. “I haven’t forgotten her,” he continued as he stood from the table, twirling one of the daggers they had laying around. “I would gladly fight her, though I doubt she would fight fair.”

“Would you kill her?” Scott questioned.

“I would see her hanged for her crimes against the people,” Stiles mindfully answered. “Though, I’m not against stabbing her through the heart—if she had one.”

Scott’s gaze followed Stiles’ pacing form. “Is this because of her affections towards Derek?”

Stiles paused, turning to look at Scott. “She’s a horrid person,” he admitted. “Though I would be lying if I didn’t admit that it would also bring me joy to know that Derek was finally safe from her.”

“So there is a selfishness in your goal,” Scott concluded.

“There are always selfish reasons in anyone’s goals,” Stiles answered Scott’s judgment with wisdom. “To say otherwise is to lie.” He sighed, throwing the knife down into one of the books, the blade piercing the center of the city’s castle on the map. He walked away from the table, heading out of the hut. “I’m going for a swim—to clear my head.”

~*~

Derek ignored the men yelling at him, telling him he couldn’t descend the mountainside to discover where Stiles was. He had a hundred questions, a wish to demand that Stiles tell him why he had highwaymen robbing innocent people on the road. He startled when he saw the naked figure swimming in the lake beneath the waterfall. His eyes tracked the body, knowing that it was Stiles, even from such a far distance.

Stiles wondered if swimming in the lake was enough to rinse his guilt away—how vacant his heart felt to know that his father was still alive, rotting in Kate’s jail, all while he roamed free. He was wounded to think that everyone he’s ever cared for was to be used against him. He knew that Derek needed to keep walking the fine line between aristocracy and liberator, despite it all.

Stiles climbed out of the lake, shaking his hair a bit. He shook out his arms and legs, feeling like a dog trying to dry off as he moved towards his pile of clothes.

“Avert your eyes!” One of the men shouted when they realized Derek was watching Stiles.

“Robin!” The other man shouted to gain Stiles’ attention.

Stiles turned his head to look up at the edge of the trail up the cliff side, seeing the outline of figures through the waterfall. He grabbed his shirt, quickly making his way over to the trail. His steps faltered some when he saw that one of the figures was none other than Derek.

“Lord Hale,” Stiles stated, a small smirk blossoming over his lips as he pulled his shirt on over his head.

Derek crossed his arms over his chest, slowly arching his eyebrow at Stiles. “Robin of the Hood? Really?”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest.

“It’s _the_ Robin of the Hood, actually,” one of the men answered.

Stiles closed his eyes, wishing he could make a counter for whatever taunting Derek could create from that piece of information.

“Oh,” Derek pretended to be impressed, knowing Stiles chose that name because of the robin’s place on the Stilinski coat of arms. It was still amusing to think that Stiles found a type of empowerment in the bird. “ _The_ Robin of the Hood. Much more awe inspiring,” he stated.

Derek remembered the robin that appeared on the Stilinski crest. He recalled the countless bird Claudia had kept, even offering one to Derek for his twelfth name day. He had cried the day it died—Stiles had helped him bury the creature beneath the tree in his backyard.

“Pray tell, why did you bring them here?” Stiles asked the two men, ignoring Derek’s prior smugness.

“Well, you see,” one of the men started before falling quiet. “He, um.”

“He batted his eyelashes and disarmed you, didn’t he?” Stiles sighed, looking at Derek.

“I don’t bat my eyelashes,” Derek countered. “Just because I sometimes look like a helpless lord doesn’t mean I should be taken as one.”

Stiles moved forward, taking Derek by his arm to lead him away from the others, including Derek’s overbearing handmaiden. “Why did you bring Erica? You know she hates me.”

“I think she feels that way towards a number of people trying to ruin my life,” Derek answered.

“I’m not trying to ruin your life,” Stiles sounded insulted.

“You put ink in my tea and burned my hair,” Derek deadpanned.

“I was eight—and I had never meant to burn your hair with the candles,” Stiles countered. “And Erica never liked me even before that.”

“She had a crush on you when we were younger,” Derek explained. “And then you shoved her into the mud.”

“I didn’t mean to shove her into the mud,” Stiles replied.

“Sire, we shouldn’t be here,” Erica called after Derek, giving the blond man with curls a slight shove to keep him from trying to hold her back. “If that is all right with _the_ Robin of the Hood.”

Stiles sighed, looking at Derek.

“Just a moment, Erica,” Derek answer with a soft smile. “The Robin is going to give us an explanation.”

Stiles offered his arm to Derek, waiting to give him the grand tour.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giving you two chapters in one night because I thought it not fair that I barely changed anything in the first chapter from when I originally posted the snippet on tumblr. The pacing felt better by splitting it into two separate chapters, with the final climax in the 3rd chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this~ The next chapter will hopefully be up this weekend.

Derek looked down at all the gold in awe. There was more gold in this hut than he had imagined possible. He turned to look at Stiles, looking at him differently. “Are you … bragging?”

Stiles’ features looked bemused, almost crossing into insulted. “This is blood money, Derek,” he stated.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Derek answered, moving away from the gold and Stiles. He looked betrayed by them both.

“Kate was sending this to the King’s enemies,” Stiles stated, glad that Derek stopped walking away to listen to him. “It’s blood money because she is using the treasury to persuade Peter’s enemies into fighting against him. We intercepted it, Derek. We’re giving it back to the people, where it belongs.”

Derek looked at Stiles, his eyes drifting to the gold. “She’s trying to kill Peter,” he stated. “With Peter away, she’d be able to make it look like a casualty of war.”

“Which would leave you as the heir apparent to the throne,” Stiles concluded.

Derek looked at Stiles.

“And leave her to pressure you into a marriage of convenience,” Stiles stated. “One that would benefit the people.”

Derek shook his head. “I’d never marry her.”

“You would if she pressed the correct pressure point,” Stiles countered. “You’re a bleeding heart, Derek. You care more about other people than you do yourself. And at this point, Peter is the only person who can stop Kate.”

“He’s not due back until the war ends,” Derek offered. “He tells me very little in the few correspondences he’s sent.”

“But you could send him word,” Stiles explained.

Realization dawned on Derek’s features. “You wish me to risk my life—the lives of the people I care for. And for what? For the hope that Peter would take my claims seriously?”

“Peter would believe you,” Stiles answered. “You’re his only living relative outside of Court, and Kate has been after you and power for a long time.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s too much.”

“You don’t have to,” Stiles answered, moving closer to Derek. “I’m not pressuring you to do anything. I want you to be safe, and sending Peter that letter would place you in jeopardy.”

Derek looked at Stiles. “I’ll … I’ll think about it.”

Stiles smiled. “Whatever you think is right, Derek. I couldn’t ask for more than that.”

Derek looked down, self conscious of the way Stiles was looking at him. He cleared his throat, “I have a contribution of sorts.” He offered Stiles the gold and jewel embedded dagger Kate had given him.

“Derek, I can’t accept that.”

“Oh, it’s not important to me,” Derek blurted out, feeling no sentimental attachment to it.

Stiles arched his eyebrow at Derek.

“I mean, it’s not that it’s not important, the monetary value would do you a great deal of good,” Derek reasoned. “Kate thought it was a sentimental gift, but I don’t care for it.”

Stiles smiled as he listened to Derek’s ramblings. “It’s not often I see this endearingly adorable bumbling and blushing version of Lord Hale.”

Derek huffed in annoyance, his blush intensifying as he slammed the dagger onto one of the tables. “Don’t ridicule me,” he mumbled as he left the room.

“I said _adorable_ ,” Stiles called after him, rushing over to follow after Derek.

Derek was by the ladder they had climbed up, prepared to descend it.

“We don’t go that way anymore,” Stiles stated, smiling when Derek looked at him and released his hold on the ladder.

“Then how do I get down,” Derek inquired.

“This way,” Stiles smiled, gesturing his head toward the rope by the ladder. He reached a hand up, twirling his arm around the rope in a secure manner before turning towards Derek. He offered his free arm out to Derek. “Trust me?”

Derek’s heart fluttered as he looked at Stiles. His mind was racing with his childhood memories of Stiles always playing the knight, Derek always being the one in need of rescue. His sicker days forced him into solitude, isolated in his room in hopes that he’d get better with bedrest. He remembered waking up to Stiles climbing through his window, Laura keeping lookout down below. He remembered the way Stiles would offer an outstretched hand to him, his eyes begging Derek to take his hand and follow him outside.

It didn’t matter that they both knew the consequences. Derek took Stiles’ hand anyways.

Derek slid his hand into Stiles’ allowing him to pull him forward. He comfortably settled next to Stiles, allowing Stiles to wrap his arm around his waist. He placed his own hand on the rope as Stiles had.

“Step off,” Stiles’ voice softly instructed, his breath tickling the hair on Derek’s neck.

Derek followed Stiles’ instructions, stepping off as Stiles kicked them off the side. He looked up at the rope as they started to slowly descend the treeline. He saw the pulley system the rope was attached to. He smiled, knowing that Stiles was responsible for a majority of the tinkering that happened here.

“Amazing,” Derek breathed.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed.

Derek looked at Stiles, noticing that he was staring at him. Their faces were close, close enough to argue that a grazing of skin was accidental. Derek’s gaze flickered down to Stiles’ lips, curious if the flipping in his stomach was from their slowly descending bodies, or just from Stiles.

“You know, we have a policy here,” Stiles started. “Once you find your way here, you can’t leave. It’s for your own protection, of course.”

Derek was jolted from his thoughts when their feet touched the ground. “I figured,” he answered, slowly letting his grip slip from Stiles as he took a step back. “That’s why I had us blindfolded.”

Stiles blankly stared at Derek. “I guess … that’s one way.”

Derek smiled, turning to head back towards the group of people gathering. He looked at Stiles when he joined him before he turned back to look at what everyone was watching.

“We have competitions of sorts,” Stiles stated, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched everyone taking turns shooting at the target.

The youngest contestant was a boy, no older than Stiles had been when he lost his mother. The boy managed to hit the bullseye of the target, smiling as everyone cheered for him.

Stiles caught the way Derek clapped, joyfully smiling as he took in the sight before him.

“That’s his fifth one today,” someone commented in amazement.

“But can he do it without folding under distraction,” Stiles asked, moving forward to take his place by the other archers. He smiled as he looked down at the boy. “To not break under the smallest of distractions is the sign of a true master. So, can you?”

The boy pursed his lips as he looked down at his bow. He drew in a soft sigh, pulling back the string of his bow, aiming another arrow at the target.

Stiles stepped just behind the boy, his eyes watching the boy’s form. The boy had potential. He used the feathers of one of his arrows to graze the boy’s ear, causing him to miss the bullseye and hit the largest ring of the target.

A handful of the crowd playfully booed at Stiles.

“Can you?” Derek loudly questioned over the noise of the crowd. He noticed everyone seemed to grow silent under his question, as if they didn’t believe anyone would dare ask such a thing of Stiles.

Stiles turned to look at Derek.

“Well?” Derek prompted. “Can _the_ _great_ Robin of the Hood make a shot under distraction?”

Stiles smiled, nodding in acceptance when people started chanting for him to shoot. He took a stance where the boy had been, playfully ruffling his hair. He drew his bow back, aiming an arrow at the target. He suppressed a laugh when everyone started making various disruptive noises.

Derek quietly took a step forward, making sure that Stiles didn’t hear him. He waiting until Stiles’ concentration was at its peak. He softly pursed his lips, gently blowing air over Stiles’ ear.

Stiles’ aim jerked, prematurely releasing the bowstring and sending the arrow soaring through the air and deflecting off of the tree behind the target. A blush burned deep on Stiles’ cheeks as he turned to look at Derek with slightly widened eyes.

The others erupted into laughter as Derek smirked at Stiles, “Well done.”

~*~

There was more merrymaking tonight than any day before, Stiles finding it in thanks to Derek’s unexpected presence.

Derek found himself overrun by more than one of the children, most of them dazzled by the rich colors of Derek’s cloak as well as the fine fur he adorning his shoulders. One of the boys touched Derek’s braid in interest, another asking him about the ornaments in his hair.

Derek undid one of his braids, slipping one of the golden rings from his hair. He held it on display for the children to see. “It’s an easy way to remember one’s coin,” he stated with a smile, watching as the boy tried to place the golden ring in his sister’s hair.

Stiles smiled as he watched Derek help braid the young girl’s hair.

“So he’s the noble lord?” Isaac asked as he worked on heating the mead to the right temperature.

Stiles looked at Isaac, arching his eyebrow as he listened to Scott and Isaac converse.

“He is King Peter’s nephew, I’ve been told,” Scott answered.

“He looks like a Celt,” Isaac remarked, gesturing his hand at his own short hair. “I thought they were to be considered barbarians by English gentry.”

Stiles made a point to walk forward loudly in order to announce himself. He took two cups, pouring the heated mead into them. “His father was a Celt,” he sharply stated as he looked between both Isaac and Scott. “His mother eloped with him, despite her father’s threats of disownment—Peter restored them to the succession line after he became King.”

Isaac looked at Scott before turning to look at Stiles. “Then Peter’s a better man than I thought a King could be.”

Stiles nodded, taking his leave of them, walking over to Derek and the children.

Derek watched Stiles approach them, a smile on his lips as he turned back to finish the little girl’s braid.

“You’ve found your new calling,” Stiles remarked as he reached them.

The little girl turned and hugged Derek, thanking him as she moved to run off with her friends.

“You gave her one of your gold decorations,” Stiles commented as he watched the girl showing off the new addition to her hair.

“I can get more,” Derek replied. He looked up at Stiles. “I dare say most of your people look at me like I’m a danger, perhaps this will help change that.”

Stiles sat next to Derek, offering him a cup of heated mead.

Derek smiled at him, accepting the goblet. He looked at the fire once more, thoughts of how he would be happy to stay there. It had been years since Derek felt this elated with joy.

That had been before Laura left for the war.

“Once they realize how humble you are, they’ll recant such assumptions,” Stiles replied.

“So tell me,” Derek started as he looked to Stiles. “How can it be that an arrogant son of a noble man has found himself more than content living with the salt of the earth?”

“Ouch,” Stiles huffed as he turned to look at Derek. “I suppose I deserve that,” he uttered.

“Maybe the boy that left for the glory of war deserved that,” Derek replied, taking a sip from his goblet, pleasantly surprised by the sweetened honey he could taste in the mead.

“I can say that I’ve witnessed nobility in those without it bestowed on them as a birthright,” Stiles noted, looking away from Derek once again. “I’ve seen knights turn and run at the hint of danger,” he explained, his tone soft with regret of the deeds done during the war. “And in reverse, I’ve seen a squire pulling a spear from their body to defend a dying horse.” He shook his head.

“I don’t think Peter wished to continue his father’s war,” Derek explained as he looked down at his mead. “But he couldn’t find a way out of such senseless death without putting in a foothold for a retreat.”

“My father used to say something much the same,” Stiles answered as he picked up one of the sticks to poke the dying fire with.

“You haven’t mentioned your father since you’ve returned,” Derek noted. “Did the war change your feelings towards him?”

Stiles huffed. “I was angry when I left—I thought I could show him how different we were.”

Derek carefully watched Stiles’ response.

“But it only showed how much the same we are,” Stiles replied as he tossed the stick down into the dirt. He looked up at Derek. “I’ve tried to find a way to save him, but I keep running in circles.”

“Kate’s too afraid to harm him,” Derek answered. “I’ve seen him—at church.”

Stiles quickly nodded, glad to hear what little good news he could about his father. He set his goblet down beside them. “Does he look … well?”

“He’s alive,” Derek cautiously stated. “But he looks exhausted.”

Stiles sighed, placing his head in his hands. “I was so lost after my mom died—so angry and stupid. My dad was hurting, too, and I just …”

Derek reached his hand out, touching Stiles’ arm in comfort. “We’ve all said and done things as children that we regret later in life.”

“Like burning your hair,” Stiles uttered with a soft laugh.

Derek lightly chuckled, shaking his head. “I suppose I appreciate that confession.”

Stiles placed his hand over Derek’s. He brushed his thumb over Derek’s knuckles, admiring the comfort they shared between them. “Will you stay the night?”

Derek cleared his throat some in an attempt to hide the fact that he choked on his mead. “I believe for Erica’s happiness, we will,” he finally uttered, gesturing towards where Erica was sitting and speaking with Boyd.

Stiles looked at where Derek had gestured. He smiled at the image they made. “And you wonder how I could be content out here,” he laughed. “My plans for the future hold many possibilities.”

“Oh, you have a grander scheme than this?” Derek smiled in question, taking another drink of mead.

“Yes,” Stiles triumphantly admitted. “I have plans for the future—a simple one, with a home and family. Love,”

“And are you, Robin of the Hood—the Prince of Thieves, capable of such a feat?” Derek softly laughed, looking at Stiles.

“I like to think so,” Stiles softly answered as he stared at Derek through the fire’s light.

Derek smiled back at Stiles.

~*~

Derek watched as Stiles’ people prepared the rowboat. He smiled to himself when Stiles stumbled over to him, seeing the shyness in Stiles’ actions. He reached a hand out to touch Stiles’ arm.

“Please stay safe,” Stiles asked of Derek. “I am very worried that you’ll be jeopardized because of me.”

Derek shook his head. “Kate cannot hurt me,” he stated. “She may force me to endure her presence, but she will never try to kill me.”

“There are still terrible things she could do that doesn’t involve killing you,” Stiles countered. “She could try to force you into a marriage.”

Derek released a distasteful scoff. “She’s tried that.”

“Surely you could join Cora in London,” Stiles pressed. “Life in Court would be safer than here, at Kate’s mercy.”

Derek shook his head. “I have no care for life at Court,” he answered. “All that gossip mongering, and incurring favor—with Peter gone, they will all try to use me to get close to the throne. Cora already suffers that.”

Stiles faintly smiled at Derek’s stubbornness. “I dare say I admire that reluctance.”

“One day, perhaps you will marry someone from the Court and realize that,” Derek answered.

Stiles reached a hand up to correct part of Derek’s cape, smiling back at Derek. “I hope to,” he answered, like a promise. “It was good to see you again, Derek.”

“It was good to be seen,” Derek replied. “I wanted to let you know,” he started, looking down at the way he held Stiles’ hand. “I will write to Peter.”

“Thank you,” Stiles sighed in relief. “To do this for our King—”

Derek shook his head. “I won’t do it for him,” he admitted. “I’m doing it for you.”

Stiles looked up at Derek, brightly smiling at him.

Derek leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips. He quickly turned before he could lie away his confession, rushing to get on the boat. He narrowed his gaze at Erica when she smirked at him.

“He loves you,” Boyd stated, announcing himself as he came to stand beside Stiles.

Stiles continued to watch the boat carrying Derek and Erica across the lake. “I can’t deny that I love him,” he finally stated. “Just as you fancy Erica.”

Boyd smirked, gently elbowing Stiles as he moved to turn. “Come on,” he ushered Stiles to leave the shoreline, the boat becoming nothing but a shaded outline in the fog as it continued across the lake. “You’ll be with him again soon.”

Stiles hesitated, wishing he could have kept Derek safe from all this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Because of job issues, and the hectic upheaval of tumblr, I've been bad at updating things. I wanted to give you the end chapter, but the final big fight wasn't finished, and the pacing works better with an additional 4th chapter.
> 
> At the urging of some, and to try new things, I signed up for **EDIT** some things that will not be mentioned here ... I guess I will find out other ways to mention them...

Derek wrote with haste, his quill scratching out the words that recounted the many grievances the people had with Kate, and even noting the wrongdoing that had been done to Sheriff Stilinski and his family. He used his family’s personal wax seal to make sure that Peter knew the truth.

He never knew it would result in being under Kate’s personal arrest.

Derek respectfully knelt before the altar, refusing to show fear for himself as he placed his hands together in prayer. He knew Kate must have had something planned for him when he wasn’t brought to the jail, though he did not know to what extent. He glanced to the side when he felt someone next to him, knowing it was likely Kate even before seeing her.

“You’ve dragged me from my house, in the middle of the night. And for what?” Derek demanded before Kate could start speaking. “Why do you keep me here?”

“For your protection,” Kate earnestly stated. “You’ve been associating with outlaws.”

“Where do you hear such lies?” Derek artfully asked, a soft sigh in his voice that suggested Kate’s accusations were ridiculously unfounded.

Kate offered a small smile as she withdrew parchment from within her cloak. “From your own hand, my lord,” she stated, placing the wax seal with the Hale crest on display for Derek.

Derek looked at the priest, seeing the man’s guilt on his face. He had trusted Erica with the letter, but knew the priest had knowledge of his intentions. He had made the mistake of trusting a man that once had the King’s confidence.

Kate followed Derek’s gaze, giving the priest a severe glare that reinforced everything she threatened him with earlier.

“I’m sorry, my child,” the father made up his apologies. “I feared you were being lead astray.”

Derek knew it was a lie, having seen the man’s indulgent clothes and jewels adorning his hands long before even Stiles had returned home.

“Come,” Kate commanded Derek, standing as she offered her hand to him.

Derek looked at Kate’s hand, taking it upon himself to stand without her help. He turned, gesturing her to walk ahead of him.

Kate’s mouth quirked in annoyance before she started walking out the church and towards the high wall’s balcony.

Derek followed her at a slow pace.

“I have finally brought justice and order to this land,” Kate triumphantly smiled as she gestured towards the entrance of the keep down below. She smirked as Derek came to stand next to her, watching the prisoners be rounded up.

Derek stared in horror as he watched the woodsmen and their families being roughly lead towards the dungeons. He found it hard to believe they had spent a joyous night celebrating not even a fortnight ago. He felt as if he was to blame for such an outcome.

“I will have to hang the ring leaders, of course,” Kate simply stated, as if the execution of so many was a simple thought to transgress. “But I would love to give you the lives of the woodsmen and their families—the children, of course,” she proposed, a twist in her tone as she looked on the prisoners.

“As a wedding gift.”

Derek closed his eyes before turning to look at Kate with a venomous glare. “And to whom am I supposed to marry?” He demanded.

Kate released a soft laugh. “I thought that would be obvious, wouldn’t it?”

Derek looked away from her, releasing a heavy breath. “I would never.”

“I would never ask for your heart, Derek,” Kate pressed, moving her hand to intimately touch Derek’s shoulder. Her fingers twirled one of the braids resting on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek sharply turned his head, pulling his braid from Kate’s hold.

“Why not consider a joyous union, my child,” the father began, taking a step towards Derek. “Between your two households. It would bring the chaos here to an end.”

“You’re wasting your breath,” Derek angrily growled out.

The priest pressed on, “Uniting the Hales and Argents would heal the wounds of this land.”

“The only person who can heal this land’s wounds is Mieczysław Stilinski—your Robin of the Hood,” Derek bitterly stated, repulsion in his words as he tightened his grip on the lip of the wall before him.

Kate rolled her eyes, annoyed with how long this was taking. She wordlessly drew Stiles’ pendant from within her cloak, placing it on display for Derek to see.

Derek turned to look at the pendant in Kate’s hand. He knew the pendant—he had seen Stiles wearing it when they parted at the boat.

The Sheriff had given it to Stiles, just before his son had left for the Holy War. It was a circular pendant, one with the robin from the Stilinski crest perched over top of a cross.

It had been Claudia’s.

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this. But he wasted his life—”

Derek closed his eyes against the burn of tears, ripping the pendant from Kate’s hand as he left her behind. He fled back through the small church, daring to escape back to his room that served as a prison cell, refusing to let Kate see his grieving tears. He stuttered to a stop when he was confronted with the children being held Kate’s prisoners.

Derek recognized the little girl with the braid still in her hair. He wished Kate had been stupid enough to confront him on her own—he would have killed her himself for this.

“I could allow them leniency—to grow up as my allies, under our union. However, I can’t allow them to grow up as my enemies,” Kate spoke harshly, placing her hand low on Derek’s chest. “Surely, you understand that?”

“I don’t have a choice, then,” Derek softly uttered.

“That’s true, you don’t,” Kate slyly answered in a smug tone.

Derek tightened his hold on the pendant, his grief blossoming pain in his chest. He marched forward, shoving the soldier that harshly grabbed at one of the fussing children. “Touch them again, and I’ll whip you myself,” he angrily countered the soldiers look of annoyance at his interruption.

Derek didn’t flinch when the soldier moved to hit him in retaliation.

A guard grabbed the soldier’s arm, stopping him from hitting Derek.

Derek turned to look at the man, recognizing him as one of John’s old city guards.

“Enough,” Kate sharply uttered in an annoyed voice.

Derek herded the children in close, ushering them to following him out of the church. “We’ll get you some food,” he softly stated, aware of the little girl’s tight hold on his hand as they walked down the hall. He turned his head to see that the guard from before was following them.

“They can sleep in the storage behind the kitchens,” the guard offered to Derek, electing to speak for the first time.

“And you care?” Derek countered as he looked at the man.

“I do,” the guard replied. “For I originally served under a good man, who was against such violence.”

Derek looked at the guard, carefully observing him.

“I stay to look after him, and I dare say you may find him agreeable to your cause,” the guard finished, gesturing towards the kitchen doors.

Derek was surprised to discover Lord Stilinski waiting in the kitchens. He ushered the children over to the cooks, politely asking them to see to their needs before he broke off from them to speak with John.

“It’s good to see you again, my boy,” John greeted him with a soft smile of his own, reaching out to embrace Derek.

Derek was silent as he accepted John’s gesture. He closed his eyes, holding onto John tightly. He didn’t want to let go—he didn’t want to face the reality that Stiles was gone. “And you,” he softly uttered. “Though I fear I bring only dark tidings.”

John pulled back from Derek, observing the younger man.

Derek wordlessly lifted the pendant up for John to see, his own unhappiness evident.

John reached a hand out to touch the pendant, his features sinking. “No,” he weakly countered with a sharp shake of his head. “My son’s alive,” he firmly uttered, looking at Derek. “I won’t believe it until I see a body.”

~*~

Stiles carefully watched Allison, wondering what her motives were for coming back after the massacre Kate rained down on them. He had no idea what happened—though he knew it was likely to happen sooner rather than later, the forest growing smaller around them the longer they resisted Kate.

“You’re saying Kate let you go?” Boyd pressed in question.

Stiles looked at Allison.

“I’m saying that she is an idiot who thought her men could follow me,” Allison answered. “She wanted me to get proof that you were dead, thinking your pendant wasn’t enough, _and_ for me to lead her to what is left of our men.”

“Of course that snake has my mother’s pendant,” Stiles roughly cursed as he kicked at the leaves on the ground.

“Kate is going to execute the prisoners in the square, tomorrow at noon,” Allison continued to explain, looking to Stiles for the first time. “As a celebration of her wedding.”

“Wedding?” Scott questioned. “To whom?”

“Lord Hale,” Allison dejectedly answered, looking away from Stiles.

“She takes a husband of royal blood,” Isaac stated in disbelief.

“And with King Peter gone, she’ll be after the bloody throne,” Boyd concluded, running a hand over his neck as he sighed.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Stiles finally stated. “And I think she knows I wouldn’t let that happen, as long as I’m alive.”

Boyd faintly smiled at Stiles’ words. “Which means?”

“Which means, I have a lord to save, and a Sheriff to retire,” Stiles concluded, snatching up the dagger Derek had given them.

~*~

Derek marched out of the castle’s arched hallway, coming to stand out on the balcony overlooking the square. He looked at John, a small frown pulling at his features. He couldn’t return the reassurance John had offered him earlier. He had not dared to hope for Stiles’ miraculous return.

Out of spite, Derek refused to use the traditional finery that was meant for a wedding ceremony. He chose a rich black fabric, which was often associated more closely with funerals and periods of grieving. The decorative collar he wore had gems of both opals and onyx, nothing cheerful about them as they refused to flicker off the torch’s lights, only mirroring the exhaustion and discontent in Derek’s eyes.

A silver circlet had been braided into Derek’s hair, his response to Kate’s request that he at least look more regal than Celtic for the ceremony. He had smacked her hands away when she touched a lock of his hair as she uttered her desire to have it cut.

Kate followed after Derek, waving her hand at the crowds shouts. She looked at Derek, her eyes catching sight of the pendant hanging against his chest. She reached a hand out, taking hold of the pendant as she lifted it into both of their views.

Derek remained still as Kate inspected Stiles’ pendant.

“That’s a little _inappropriate_ , don’t you think?” Kate sharply asked.

Derek snatched the pendant from Kate’s grasp, tightening his hold on it out of fear that Kate might try to take it from him. “No more than your wedding present,” he sneered. “And proposal,” he added as an afterthought.

Derek looked back at the crowd, watching as the prisoners were lead out of the dungeon and towards the execution block.

“What’s going on?” Kate demanded when uproar disrupted the crowd.

Derek looked at the person being dragged out of the crowd to be placed on display. He recognized her as the archer from the woodsmen—Allison, they had called her.

“Ah, the traitor,” Kate softly uttered. “Did you find him?” She loudly questioned before the masses.

Derek’s eyes dashed back and forth to find someone else in the crowd, hoping that he would see Stiles hidden among the faces.

“He was already dead when I got there,” Allison artfully lied, offering a shrug of her shoulders.

“You’re sure?” Kate pressed, narrowing her gaze at her niece. “You saw Stilinski’s body?”

Derek waited with baited breath, taking a step forward. He barely struggled when Kate pulled him back.

“I saw a grave,” Allison elaborated.

“That doesn’t exactly reassure me,” Kate replied in annoyance.

“We found this on her,” the guard started, lifting up the bow that Allison had hidden among her cloak.

Kate arched her eyebrow at Allison, a silent question. She gestured her head towards the gallows when Allison offered nothing but a shrug.

“You’d hang your own niece,” Derek stated with contempt in his tone, watching as Allison resisted the guards escorting her.

“She ceased being family when she allied with outlaws,” Kate simply stated. “It doesn’t exactly help our family by having a traitor in it.”

“You’re a traitor to the throne,” Derek answered her, turning to face her finally. “You should be down there on the gallows instead of them.”

“Well,” Kate started, turning to press into Derek’s side as she grasped his tunic tightly. She pulled him in close to keep the barons from overhearing her. “Once we marry, and I have you murdered in our wedding bed, you’ll have your happily ever after with Stilinski—in Heaven,” she mockingly added.

A muscle in Derek’s jaw twitched as he resisted the urge to shove her back. “You best hope I don’t strangle you before that,” he stated with a glare. He yanked out of Kate’s hold.

“Get on with it,” Kate announced to the guards, gesturing for the hangings to proceed.

Derek closed his eyes against the sight before him, ignoring the drums as he tightened his hold on Stiles’ pendant, pressing it against his chest. He wished he could change all this.

An arrow shot through the air, piercing through the rope and embedding into the wood of the gallows.

Derek opened his eyes to the gasps of the crowd.

“Stilinski,” Kate darkly ground out when she recognized the man standing at the back of the crowd with his bow brandished.

Stiles looked up at Kate, catching sight of Derek standing beside her. He took a step forward, momentarily distracted with the rush of thoughts of what to do.

Derek felt as if his breath was taken away. His fingers strained with how tightly he gripped the pendant in his hand. He had felt completely void last night, suffering in silence as he hid his grief. He thought he had lost Stiles once more, never believing he’d be given a second chance like before—how relieved he had been to see Stiles standing in his family’s great hall, newly returned from the Holy War. He had even blamed his joy for Stiles on cushioning the initial blow of realizing Laura’s loss.

Stiles had begun to lower his bow, his gaze leaving Derek only for a brief moment when he caught sight of his father. He didn’t see the wave of soldiers entering the courtyard.

A large explosion erupted, a great fireball engulfing part of the keep’s wall, breaking away the brick and mortar.

Kate startled at the commotion. She watched as the soldiers scattered, the crowd’s reaction volatile. She saw Stiles tumbling into a fight with a few of the soldiers, prompting her to seize her chance. “You’re coming with us!” She snapped at John, pointing at the guards to restrain him into following.

Derek pressed against the balcony, watching as Stiles managed to outwit the soldiers into stabbing one another. He wished there was a staircase—a ladder, _anything_!—for him to descend, knowing that he’d join the fight by Stiles’ side in a heartbeat. As long as it meant he had Stiles with him.

“Come on!” Kate yelled at Derek, grabbing his hand to yank him with her.

Derek snatched his hand away, refusing to turn from Stiles.

Kate reacted pettily, harshly grasping Derek’s hair by several braids, her nails digging down into his scalp with vindictive purpose as she yanked Derek backwards. She was petulant in her actions, aiming to hurt Derek in a more childish manner as she roughly pulled with little care to any pain she caused him.

“Stiles!” Derek yelled in desperation, reluctantly stumbling after Kate in an attempt to ease the pain of her yanking his hair. He knew that Stiles hadn’t looked back at them whilst fighting off the soldiers, and he feared Stiles losing sight of them. But he knew the reality—there was no conceivable way for Stiles to get inside the keep from the courtyard.

Not unless someone inside allowed Stiles access.

“Derek?!” Stiles yelled in an equal desperation, his voice hoarse with worry. He ran forward when he saw Kate physically struggling with Derek to get him back inside. He saw the other soldiers surrounding Kate and the others, knowing that he had more than one obstacle to overcome in order to free Derek and his father.

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice was distant, but still loud enough to guide Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy! What will happen to Derek? Will Stiles rescue his lord-in-distress from the wicked villainess? Will Peter ever return from war?
> 
> Much to be revealed in the next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles ran from gate to gate, trying to find at least one of the entrances in a hope that he could get through. “Is there no way in?!” He exclaimed in anger, kicking the last gate as he circled back. He paused when he saw the catapult. “Over here!” He yelled to the others as he tore the blocks from beneath the wheels. He tried pushing the heavy contraption in desperation, all to no avail.

“Are you insane?” Erica questioned when she and Boyd arrived beside Stiles.

“For him? Yeah!” Stiles yelled back at her. “Would you help me? That crazy woman is going to—”

“Stiles, if you use that catapult, you will break every bone in your body,” Allison began to rationalize.

“I say let him,” Boyd answered as he moved to help Stiles.

“Stiles!”

Stiles released his hold on the catapult, turning his head to look at the owner of the voice. He saw the knotted rope dangling down the side of the wall he needed to climb in order to get inside the keep. “Parrish?” He questioned when he saw him, recognizing the man as part of the Night’s Watch.

“Climb up!” Parrish yelled down to him. “Hurry, they’re in the tower!”

~*~

Derek stubbornly refused to budge when Kate tried dragging him towards the altar with her. He leaned his weight away from her, making it next to impossible for her to sway him.

“Hurry up and marry us!” Kate snapped at the priest.

“I will _never_ marry you,” Derek angrily snapped at Kate, turning to get back out of the tower.

Kate roughly grabbed Derek’s arm, yanking him back. “You’ll come with me and be wed, or I’ll have your sister’s throat cut while she sleeps,” she darkly threatened. “How is that for enticement?”

“Go to hell,” Derek angrily growled out.

“Should I start immediately with Stiles’ father, then? Work from there?” Kate threatened once more.

“I’ll never marry you—you’ll die for all your schemes, Katherine, and hiding behind me isn’t going to save you,” Derek forcefully uttered, shoving Kate back away from him. As he turned to run out of the tower, a sharp pain cut through his leg. His knee buckled, his hand instinctively grabbing at the back of his leg as he fell towards the ground. He felt the blood from the wound Kate maimed him with seeping through his trousers.

Kate roughly grabbed Derek by his arm, hauling him back towards the priest. She looked the part of a madwoman, bloodied sword in one hand as she dragged an injured Derek forward. “I’ll marry you, in pieces, if I have to,” she hissed at him.

“He’ll bleed out,” John protested when he finally entered the room. He hit away the soldier’s attempt to restrain him once more as he moved to kneel by Derek’s side.

“You’ll be next,” Kate replied. “But we need a witness, and a former Sheriff will have to suffice.”

John ignored Kate as he looked to Derek’s wounded leg.

“This is madness,” the priest began, falling to his knees in panic. “Tis a revolt—no marriage would be valid during such times—”

“You either marry us, or I’ll throw you from the balcony myself,” Kate yelled at the priest. “The people are just as hungry for your blood as they are for mine,” she easily admitted, pointing the tip of her sword at the bumbling man, seeing his fear at the blood stained blade.

~*~

Stiles ran ahead of Parrish, running through the hallways as he headed to the tower. He had been there once before, just before he had left for the war, when the knights were absolved of the sins of war.

Stiles wasn’t shocked to find the door locked to him. He shoved against the door, hitting the hilt of his sword against the door. “Derek!” He shouted against the wood.

“Stiles?!” Derek’s voice called back.

“Derek, I’m coming!” Stiles yelled back, hitting the door once more. He turned to the side, catching sight of the banners blowing over the window. He ran over to the window, leaning outside the tower to look up at where the banners were fastened.

~*~

Derek stood with difficulty as Kate yanked him forward with her once she agreed to her vows of matrimony. He tried to keep his weight off of his leg, shaking his head as the priest began to go through his own expected vows.

“Do you, Derek, of the houses de Bruys and Hale—”

“No!” Derek sharply snapped as Kate reached her arm around Derek’s shoulders as her free hand clasped over his mouth.

“Of course he does, now skip to the end,” Kate harshly commanded.

“I pronounce you lord and lady, husband and wife.”

Derek pushed Kate back, his balance almost lost as he teetered back and forth. He was pulled back to the parchment Kate had prepared before the chaos unleashed in the courtyard changed everything. He refused to hold the quill, stubborn as a child with school lessons he didn’t want to complete. He just had to wait a little while longer, for someone to interrupt it all.

“Sign it!” Kate shouted at him.

~*~

“This is insane,” Stiles stated to himself as he continued to knot the banner together. He shook his head as he released a breath of hysterical laughter. “I always said I’d die for you, Derek—you better appreciate this.”

Stiles leaned over the side of the tower to see how far he’d plummet if he failed this. “Definitely suicidal,” he mumbled.

“Mother, please watch over me,” he spoke in prayer as he tightened his hold on the banner. He drew in a steady breath, releasing the heavy weight pressing down on him as he leapt with no fear from the tower’s tallest point, swinging until he angled himself towards the tower’s window where he knew Kate had taken Derek.

The large stained glass shattered under the force of Stiles swinging through it.

Stiles rolled to his side, climbing out of the shattered glass as he got his wits about him. He drew his sword on instinct, ready for a fight.

“Stiles,” Derek breathily uttered, a smile on his lips as he tried to take steps towards Stiles. He weakly crumpled against one of the many columns in the tower, his leg unable to support him.

“Derek—” Stiles moved forward, stopping himself for a moment. His gaze flickered over to his father. He was relieved to see his father’s reassuring nod.

Kate stalked forward into Stiles’ view.

“Stay away from him,” Stiles sharply stated as he aimed his sword, keeping Kate at bay, taking a side step closer to Derek.

“Do you mind, Stilinski,” Kate sharply countered. “We’ve just been married.”

“I highly doubt that,” Stiles replied, taking another step to the side, outstretching his free arm to reach for Derek. “Derek didn’t say ‘I do’, did he?” He mockingly questioned Kate. “Derek never said it, so it didn’t happen,” he simply answered. “Regardless of whatever you signed on that,” he gestured towards the wedding certificate.

Kate swung her bloodied sword at Stiles’ hand when he almost reached Derek.

Derek snatched his hand back, gripping the column tightly as he tried to move around the sturdy structure to avoid Kate.

Stiles jumped back from Kate’s blade and her desperate attempt to harm him.

In the fray of things, Stiles lost his balance, tripping over one of the pews.

John kicked the pew holding Kate’s footing, relieved when her fall gave Stiles an opportunity to regain his composure.

Kate knew she was outmatched. Perhaps that drove her to act pettishly. She took her opportunity when Derek sluggishly moved to the side.

Derek released a shout of pain when Kate managed to grab him, once again getting a tight grasp on his hair once more.

Kate twisted her hold on Derek’s hair, causing him to wince as he turned with her. She was using Derek as a shield against Stiles. “I’ll slit his throat,” she darkly threatened, despite having her blade still pointed at Stiles.

Derek turned to the side as he tried to reach out for the dagger on the table. He stretched his hand out, fingertips barely grazed the dagger’s handle before Kate yanked on him once more.

“You won’t,” Stiles countered, his tone just as dark as Kate’s. “I’ll make you regret even thinking that.”

Kate made the mistake of yanking Derek’s hair to the side, as if she forgot she had a hold on him. She held Derek away from her body giving him enough room to reach the discarded dagger. “It would be a shame, wouldn’t it? To waste such an attractive husband before consummating our marriage.”

Stiles took an angered step towards Kate.

Derek managed to reach the dagger’s blade with his fingers, uncaring of the cut the blade made through his palm as he gripped it tight.

“Maybe I will take him tonight—play with the prude, like you never got to,” Kate taunted.

Derek reacted quickly. He pressed the dagger into his other hand, pulling away from Kate as he hastily cut through the braids Kate had twisted in her grip. He heard her yell in pain, knowing he must have cut her hand in the process of freeing himself from her. He fell forward, landing against one of the many disarrayed pews.

Stiles took advantage of Kate’s distraction and lunged forward, piercing his blade through Kate’s heart. He released the sword’s hilt, taking a step back as he watched Kate stumble around for the last few beats of her heart.

Derek remained partially collapsed against the pews, turning his head to watch as Kate dropped to the ground. He was relieved to see her finally dead.

John released a heavy breath, slumping back against the wall in relief when he noticed that both Stiles and Derek were safe.

Stiles looked at Derek.

Derek tried to stand up, limping before his leg buckled under his weight and the relief he felt at having Stiles there.

Stiles rushed forward, catching Derek right before he fell to the ground.

“You came,” Derek weakly breathed out. He reached his hands forward to cup Stiles’ face in his hands. “You’re alive— You’re alive and you came back.”

“Of course I did—” Stiles replied. “I’d die for you— no, I’d _live_ for you, Derek,” he confessed into their shared kissed. “Nothing could stop me from coming for you.”

~*~

Derek wore a finely crafted crown of the Queen’s Roses, and freshly harvested wheat and holly berries. He had been deeply honored when presented with the crown by the children—a joyous gift of the appreciation they had for him.

“And if anyone has a reason as to why these two should not be joined, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Isaac stated as he looked up from the book to those gathered.

A small laughter moved through the crowd in response to the baited silence.

Isaac smiled at Derek and Stiles as he placed his hand on the book once more. “With the power invested in me by the Holy Grace, I now pronounce you—”

“Hold, I speak,” an authoritative voice commanded a stop to the proceedings.

Everyone turned to look at the person who dared to interrupt their private ceremony.

Derek recognized the banners before he even saw the man. “Peter,” he stated in disbelief at seeing his uncle.

Stiles’ eyes widened as he moved to bow like the rest of the crowd once they realized it was the King.

Cora and Derek remained standing, the only two who refused to bend the knee Peter’s theatrics.

Peter still had chainmail on, having ridden from the docks the moment his spymaster informed him of his nephew’s impromptu wedding. He hardly expected to return from the peace talks and have such a grand tale spun for him—his nephew marrying the outlaw known as the Robin of the Hood. He expected such an outcome from Cora’s nuptials, but once he heard the outlaw was Stiles, everything made much more sense.

“I will not allow this wedding to proceed,” Peter announced as he walked down the aisle.

“Your Majesty—” Stiles started to protest as he stood up, hand reaching out for Derek’s. He was surprised when all Derek did was gently hold on.

“Unless!” Peter pointed a finger at Stiles, his stern expression cracking before a smile crossed his face. “I’m allowed to give my nephew away,” he concluded, turning to look at Derek.

A soft wave of laughter answered Peter’s words, just as Cora groaned in annoyance.

Derek released a huff, shaking his head in minor annoyance at Peter’s theatrics. “You had to interrupt my wedding for _that_?”

“I have a taste for the dramatics,” Peter answered with a warm smile as he moved to embrace Derek. “You look radiant—like your father did.”

Derek hugged Peter back, pressing his face against Peter’s shoulder to pretend he wasn’t affected by such words. “You can’t make me cry,” he stubbornly mumbled out.

Peter fondly smiled at his nephew, placing his hand on the back of Derek’s neck in a comforting gesture. His brow furrowed some when he saw the short hairs just behind Derek’s ear. “Someone cut your braids,” he commented as he pulled back, eyes moving towards Stiles. “You didn’t light his hair on fire again—”

“I was eight years old then,” Stiles loudly countered, briefly forgetting he was addressing the King as he heard his father fail to suppress a laugh.

Stiles still felt bad about that day—he had always been fascinated by Derek’s braids. He had held the candle closer than he had meant to, inspecting the ornaments that had been folded and twisted into Derek’s hair. He didn’t realize how close he had held the candle. He felt worthless when he heard Derek crying about it later that night—when Talia softly soothed Derek’s sobs after having to cut the burnt pieces of her son’s hair short. Sobs that expressed Derek’s sorrow that he wouldn’t have braids like his father had.

Stiles brought Derek more flowers than he could care for after that, leaving the flowers to be discovered on the young lord’s windowsill.

“He’s teasing,” Derek offered, giving Peter a look that dared him to mock Stiles again.

Peter laughed. “But of course,” he softly stated. He looked at Stiles.

Stiles nodded, releasing a weak laugh. “You honor us, then,” he replied.

“No, it is you that have honored me while I’ve been away,” Peter answered Stiles. “I still have a throne thanks to you.”

Stiles looked at Derek. “It seemed hardly fitting, letting the family of the man I love fall to ruin.”

Derek smiled, shyly dipping his chin down as he tightened his hold on Stiles’ hand.

“I believe they will run away and elope, dear friar, if you don’t proceed,” Peter commented with a playful wink as he took a step back to join beside Cora.

Isaac cleared his throat, attempting to find his voice once more. “Your Grace,” he uttered with a respectful nod to Peter. He turned his smile towards Stiles and Derek. “Lord and lord, husband and husband,” he summarized the previous parts of the ceremony. “You may kiss—”

“I think we know that,” Stiles answered before looking at Derek.

Derek smiled at Stiles in return.

Stiles drew Derek into a chaste kiss, his arms moved to wrap around Derek’s waist. He smiled into their kiss as Derek pulled him in even closer, their kiss deepening.

“My dashing prince,” Stiles spoke against Derek’s lips, leaning in for another kiss.

“My heroic thief,” Derek answered with a soft smile.

Stiles pulled back from their kiss for a moment. “Huh.”

“What?” Derek inquired with a soft laugh.

“I guess now that we’re married, that does make me the Prince of Thieves,” Stiles stated with an amused smile when Derek rolled his eyes at him.


End file.
